All He Wants For Christmas
by CayCullen
Summary: It's almost Christmas but Holmes family hasn't seen much of Baker Street lately. When they realize the stress the absence is causing their son (and his Uncles) they are determined to make this Christmas fantastic. But can Sherlock and John balance the needs of their family while facing pressure from Lestrade to solve a case that may have ties to their son?


**Summery**: It's almost Christmas but Holmes family hasn't seen much of Baker Street lately. When they realize the stress the absence is causing their son (and his Uncles) they are determined to make this Christmas fantastic. But can Sherlock and John balance the needs of their family while facing pressure from Lestrade to solve a case that may have ties to their son?

**Authors**: CayCullen and HollyGlow

**Notes**: Here it is! The Christmas themed sequel to Save Him From Himself. So excited to start getting this fic posted. It's still in the processes of being written and edited but hopefully we'll be done with it before the month is over. Enjoy!

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"Ow, be careful, Sherlock!" John snapped as they sat in the back of the car Mycroft had sent for them. Sherlock muttered an apology and then ordered him to stop complaining because he wasn't used to doing this. It wasn't often that Sherlock was the one giving the stitches and John was the one receiving them. John sighed, his mind completely overwhelmed. Time had passed far too quickly for his liking. One moment they were living peacefully in a loving three person relationship with Victor and then suddenly they were parents. Hamish's parents had been brutally murdered, causing the crime scene that they'd received the call to join Greg Lestrade on. Of course once they'd found the little boy it had been clear Sherlock was partial to him. Sherlock had promised not to do anything rash... But apparently letting it casually slip to Greg that they intended to adopt him if his family didn't come forward wasn't considered rash. Nor was slipping off and finalizing the adoption papers two days later. Once the words were in Greg's mind there had been no taking them back. Though John had never wanted to. He loved Hamish. Victor had moved out and into his own lavish flat, proceeding on with school and work until he suddenly disappeared. He'd fallen for his assistant, Alex. He was a nice bloke and if John was honest he was thrilled for the two of them, but they were getting married in the spring and all of it was quite overwhelming. It had happened over the course of three years but to him it felt like three seconds.

Already Hamish was walking and talking, he was deducing things about his parents, and becoming more like Sherlock every day. John still couldn't get over how precious it was to find Hamish looking over a Lego crime scene with a magnifying glass. He had adorable dark hair and soft brown eyes, a caring heart like John and enough mischief to make up for it. John was exhausted from trying keep up with the two of them, especially now with the back to back cases, a alarmingly emotionally awkward and confused detective, and a precocious three year old. Not to mention Mycroft and Greg's constant lectures about the two of them continually leaving Hamish with them or Mrs. Hudson to run all over London on these cases that Greg also refused to stop giving them.

"Mycroft is going to be furious, we were supposed to pick up Hamish an hour ago." John muttered as he tried focus on anything other than the fact Sherlock was stitching up a large knife wound on his shoulder.

"You were supposed to wait outside." Sherlock replied tersely, his attention focused and his voice strained. "I should have let the medical team do this. Why did you convince me I could do this?" His eyes were focused to crowd out the fear that had been gnawing away at his stomach, but his voice betrayed a slight panic.

It had been an easy crime scene or so Sherlock had thought. Two men robbed a small accounting firm and then made off with the books and the money. Sherlock easily cornered them in their warehouse and was going to sweep in, deduce them thoroughly, and then watch smugly as the Yard hauled them off. But John said he'd seen a third man and came storming into the building. The two men and two others (the one John saw and another who came from outside) attacked them and now John was bleeding from his bicep where he'd been stabbed fairly deeply and had potential head trauma. Sherlock easily ignored his own injuries, though his own arm ached from where it was likely sprained. Pain was nothing for him. He had a cut above his right eye that was still bleeding, his coat was torn, watch busted, and he had several moderately deep cuts himself - none requiring stitches but nasty all the same. His hands were shaking slightly as he tried to work, because for a moment he'd seen his husband in mortal danger. Something that still did not sit well with him. They'd been married for two and a half years but it was still a new challenge every day for him. Especially now that Victor was happily settled with his fiancé Alexander. John didn't have someone to cuddle anymore, well... That wasn't entirely true. He had Hamish, but no adult contact. So Sherlock was trying his best to adapt which if this was any evidence of it - he was doing a miserable job.

"Mycroft is going to lecture us to death." He sighed as he finished the stitches and pulled out an alcohol wipe to clean the surface of the wound. "This is going to hurt." He whispered, trying to prepare his lover. John nodded knowing full well how much alcohol burned. He bit his lip and gripped the car door handle.

"Do it." He ordered and once he felt the burning sensation he winced and muttered. "Son of a bitch." He pulled his arm away from Sherlock with a groan. "Shit. Fuck." He continued swearing as it burned. He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head to try to distract from the pain. "Well, this is the second night in a week we've had to leave, Mish with them." John said through gritted teeth. Once the pain began to fade away, he opened his eyes and let out a sigh. "Christmas is in four days and I haven't gotten a damn bit of shopping done aside from filling Hamish's stocking."

"I was able to get a few things when you took him to the doctor for his checkup last week. Mrs. Hudson has them kept downstairs so he wouldn't find them." Sherlock's face was tight, he felt horrible for hurting John and for dragging John away. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. I should have solved this sooner." He looked out the window, his mouth tightened into a grim look. He knew that really he shouldn't have had to solve this case at all. It was a simple case and surely even Greg could see the evidence right in front of him. He made a mental note that he would need to find out why Greg was calling him in on so many cases. "I'm sorry you got hurt." And there was that guilt again, curling away in his stomach as he tried to fight it. He'd felt it over and over since Victor left. The guilt that he wasn't doing enough for or right by John. It had been easy with Victor there to pick up the slack. It was easy to forget that John needed him so much more than he was available. His mind was racing away without him again, trying to figure out some way to help make this all right for his boys. John frowned Sherlock had been apologizing a lot since Victor moved out. At first it was honestly just nice to know he knew that things weren't perfect for John. But now it was starting to make him feel terrible

"Love, none of this is your fault. You don't have to be sorry for anything. I was the one who went after the guy alone. Which to be honest was not my brightest idea. If anyone is to blame it's me for being stupid." He moved closer to Sherlock and wrapped his aching arm around him, not caring how much it hurt.

"Should I go out tonight? There are a few shops near us that stay open late. I know he's been wanting some more books on science and some more CDs of violin music..." Sherlock offered timidly, as John shook his head slowly, a fond smile on his lips.

"I think you actually need some rest tonight. You haven't slept in two days. I'll try to go early in the morning." John smiled, he honestly didn't mind Christmas shopping. He'd always been the one to do it growing up and now he was doing it for his own family. That meant it wasn't a burden it was a joy. "I still have to find things for Victor and Alex, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Mycroft and Greg... Am I forgetting anyone? He asked Sherlock softly. Sherlock turned back to look at him, his eyes betraying his complete lack of certainty as to what he was supposed to be doing in the moment. It bothered him that even after this long with John he still didn't know what he was doing most of the time.

"Me?" He asked in a soft voice, trying to make John smile.

"No not you." John said with a soft smile. "I got your gift ages ago." He assured his husband. Sherlock nodded slowly, searching his mind to make sure John hadn't forgotten anyone.

"I think you've covered everyone really. You could be out all day at that rate though and you need to rest too. You hit your head pretty hard when he threw you into the room." He sighed softly, his leg giving an involuntary twitch as the adrenaline oozed out of his system and left him hollow and aching. "I could have lost you. We could have lost you..." He whispered, his brooding finally breaking open. "If that knife had been just two inches to the left..." His voice trailed off and he tensed. Now John could see it. He could see how worried Sherlock was and how because of that worry he was sinking into his own mind. There were many signs that was what was happening to his husband but the strongest one was that Sherlock had begun to spin his wedding ring on his finger. John almost inwardly cursed for having bought a ring that spun - it had become an easy habit to Sherlock, one he picked up quickly and now it betrayed his brooding to John whenever he was losing himself under the tide of his own dark thinking. John could see that his husband was thinking so many, 'what if'," that John wouldn't be able to keep up if he even tried to.

"But it wasn't." John whispered, moving his hand to Sherlock's hair. "It wasn't two inches to the left. You don't have to think about what could have happened. I'm here. I'm right here." He kissed Sherlock's cheek, trying to distract him from the dark thoughts clouding his mind. "Christmas is in a few days, we have our son, and we're going to have a wonderful holiday. Focus on that, Love. Not what could have happened."

"It's always this way, John." Sherlock's voice was pained, his whole body tensed. He leaned into John's touch, shutting his eyes hard. "Do I treat you well enough? Do I take care of you?" He asked suddenly, his eyes opening and a single tear sliding down his cheek as he turned to look at his husband. He forced himself to stop spinning his ring for the moment, a shuddering breath rocking through him. "I promised to protect you and I keep dragging you into the line of fire... We haven't had much time to talk lately because of Hamish and the case. I haven't talked to you about this whole change of things with Victor, or how you're handling things, or anything... I've not be a very good husband have I?" He reached out and took John's other hand, gripping it tightly. "Are you still happy?"

His face was childlike in that moment, desperate for the answer but terrified of what it might be at the same time. He wanted to find a way to make this easier for him. To make sure that he never had to put his life in danger again. He wasn't sure his own heart could handle it, let alone Hamish's. His eyes searched everything about John's face as he prepared to answer, scanning his eyes, the way he wrinkled his mouth, the way his body moved, all of it to find the truth. The truth was he himself had not handled the abruptness with which their situation had shifted, nor his own rashness at bringing Hamish into their lives very well. He didn't regret it but he had been completely ill prepared for the enormity of the task. He was also haunted by the persistent doubt that he was making a mess of things because he had no idea what to do. But God he loved the man sitting beside him. So much it made him ache to even begin to imagine what his life would be like without him. John wasn't prepared for the rush of emotions that suddenly poured out of his usually distant husband. He hadn't opened up like this in ages. He couldn't even remember properly the last time Sherlock had shed a tear. He stared at his husband with an utterly stunned and confused expression for a moment before his words actually sunk in. Sherlock was worried about his happiness. Of course he was happy. He loved being a husband and father. He had feared that would never happened, that Victor had been wrong about Sherlock's desired and yet here they were with a three year old. It was wonderful. Sure maybe it wasn't perfect but he was happy. There were times where he missed having Victor around but now he had Hamish to cuddle with. It wasn't really the same thing but all John needed was someone there who said he loved him and wanted to touch him.

"Yes." He answered his voice cracking as he wiped away Sherlock's tears. "Of course, Darling, yes." He insisted and he kissed the hand that was gripping his own. "I love you so much; you have been a wonderful husband and a fantastic father." He smiled softly and continued to kiss Sherlock's hand. "Yes, sometimes I do get a bit lonely but that does not mean I am unhappy. How could I be unhappy? I have a perfect son, a beautiful husband, and some wonderful friends. I have no reason to be unhappy, Sherlock."

"You have to promise to tell me when you get lonely." He said softly, his eyes still focused on John. "I..." He sighed and his jaw tightened again. "I know you told me you never wanted me to change but you have compromised over and over again for our relationship and I have remained the same. It's not logical that you should be a doormat and I should just abuse you like that. So from now on I want you to tell me when you need me to stop and I'll try." He smiled a bit as the fear that had wrapped around his heart loosened some. "You deserve the world and then some. I want to give it to you." He bit his lip a little nervously, realizing he shifted from one extreme to the other so quickly. He looked down, his eyes staring at their hands together.

"Alright, I promise." John had said quickly but he doubted he could do such a thing. He wasn't used to that. To admitting he needed something. He was so used to doing things for himself and just getting by on what he could get. But if Sherlock wanted him to do that, if he was willing to try he would try also. "But you have never treated me like doormat. I would never let you treat me like a doormat." He assured his husband but he began to worry about whether or not that was actually true. Had Sherlock been ignoring John's needs so much that John had begun to also?

"I hope Hamish won't be too upset to see you hurt." Sherlock said with a bit of frown.

"Oh. Oh, Goodness I never even stopped to think about that. He'll be more upset to see you hurt. He's almost used to me coming home with something scratched or bruised but you, you hardly ever get hurt and you got banged up quite a bit. It may scare him."

"John, our son should not be comfortable with seeing his father beaten up." Sherlock said in his normal tone, laying his head back against the seat and sighing. "It's true though, isn't it? Because you always take the blows for me." He sighed again, he truly was exhausted even more so now that the adrenaline that had been pumping through him was utterly gone. "When did I even eat last?" He mused out loud, wincing slightly because he knew it would bother John.

"I forced a piece of toast down your throat before we left the house this morning." John chuckled because Sherlock had cussed at him for fifteen minutes after John had shoved the offending piece of bread down his gullet.

"What day is it?" Sherlock furrowed his brow, fishing in his pocket, wincing as he did, to find his phone. "Christ, it's Sunday?" He seemed to be ticking something off in his mind. He shook his head. "We're absolute crap without Victor to babysit us it seems." He started chuckling, though it hurt slightly. "John, I think we'd better take a small break from cases," He rolled his head to the side looking at his husband. "I think we're both indulging our bad habits again."

"Our bad habits?" John asked with a smile. He didn't think he had any bad habits. At least not anymore. "I don't have bad habits anymore, you do." He teased, touching his husband's nose with his own. "You're the one who forgets to sleep and to eat." He pulled his nose away only so he could kiss his lips briefly. "I haven't been up to any bad habits." He grinned. John probably had been using his same old habits but when they were on a case he wasn't aware of anything he was doing. He did his damnedest to keep up with Sherlock and that was all that mattered to him. Well besides taking care of Hamish.

"Your hair hasn't been combed properly in three days which you've tried to cover over using your hair gel. Your jacket hasn't been cleaned in a week and you're wearing the same shirt as you were yesterday because you haven't had a chance to do the laundry and you refuse to allow me to touch it after I turned everything pink. You also forgot to shave this morning." Sherlock smirked, his mouth still close to John's. "You're just following me blindly into hell again and forgetting to take care of yourself. We're not setting very good examples." He ran a hand through John's hair, smiling as he did. John blushed; he hadn't even noticed he was forgetting to take care of himself. No matter how hard he tried that kept happening and he hadn't even realized it. Well, damn...

"Sorry," He mumbled with a sheepish expression.

"What do you say we have a nice night in? We can order some takeaway when we get home, we'll let Hamish pick a movie, and we can build a fort in the living room. I think we still have a bottle of wine..." Sherlock offered with a smirk.

"The day I say no to an offer like that slap me because that really right now that sounds like the best thing in the world." He smiled brightly at Sherlock before kissing him a little harder than before. They hadn't done more than kiss in the pass week. Which wasn't because they didn't want to, rather it was because they just didn't have time. "Oh," John said with a soft moan into his mouth. "Maybe we can play in the fort after Hamish has gone to bed?" He suggested with a wink.

"Is that a request," Sherlock hummed softly kissing John back harder. It had been too long since they'd had time to touch each other properly. Their life was a blur of cases and appointments now. "Or a promise?" He slowly nipped John's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before claiming his mouth for a deeply passionate kiss. "And I'd slap you but as I recall you like it. It's not much of a punishment if you like it, Captain." His stare was purely indecent as he pulled back slightly, a smirk toying on the edges of his mouth. John's heart began to pound and if he hadn't learned to have better control over himself he would have had a strong erection almost immediately. Thankfully Sherlock's incredible neglect for minding his tongue had quickly worked up John's resistance. Though as he met Sherlock's gaze, the lust burned in his eyes.

"God you're such a tease." John said with a growl. He peeked out the window of the car and saw they were at least fifteen minutes away from Mycroft's. "I have fifteen minutes alone with you in this car... What can we do in fifteen minutes?" He asked before he crawled into Sherlock's lap with a smirk of his own. If he thought about it, it really was like they were inside their own room back here. A tinted window separated them from the man driving the car, the windows to the outside were also darkly tinted, and he knew for a fact the glass was sound proof. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and began lowering his lips towards his. "Fifteen minutes alone with my husband, dare I even try to please him?" He asked with a giggle as he brought his hands to his chest, digging his nails in slightly. "Or should I just wait until we get home and our little one is in bed?" Sherlock groaned soft and deep, his body pushing up into John's embrace.

"I won't be able to stop if we start." His voice was a whisper, his eyes burning into John as he absorbed every movement. "It'll get the adrenaline going again..." He pushed up, desperate to claim those lips for another kiss, grunting softly as he did. John was holding his neck rather firmly. "John..." He pleaded but he didn't know for what. John smirked as he slid out of Sherlock's lap. He glanced toward the window, hoping the driver really couldn't see them back here as he steadied his resolve. He unbuttoned his trousers and then slid them down along with his pants.

"Get over here." He ordered playfully and once Sherlock followed him to the floor he unbuttoned his trousers and yanked them down along with his pants. "I bet we can hurry." He said with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "I bet us just rubbing our cocks against each other will do the trick." He pulled Sherlock down on top of each other, letting out a low groan when their lengths brushed together. "Fucking perfect."

"John!" Sherlock hissed, biting back a shout but just barely. God John could be so deliciously bad. He instinctively bucked his hips, trembling for breath. "I won't be able to stay quiet..." He whimpered, biting his lip hard as John pushed back against him. He tilted his head back, grunting as his hips fought to make contact again with John's. "Oh God, please..." He begged, his nails digging into John's arms.

"Sh," John giggled. He honestly didn't mind if Sherlock couldn't be quite. He had stopped caring about who heard the noises they made ages ago. They were married. They didn't get to touch each other often; stuff like this was bound to happen. But he loved trying to get Sherlock to be quiet because it was nearly impossible. Plus all his insisting that Sherlock remain quiet made Sherlock blush as he fought to and lost. "Hush darling." He said with a wicked grin. "You'll get us in trouble with your brother." He whispered, his head rolling back with a moan of his own. "Christ, come on Sherlock!" He urged, gripping his hips tightly. "Rub against me like we're horny teenagers."

"Fuck..." Sherlock hissed again and he felt like his body was going supernova. He slammed his hips into John's, leaning down so his mouth could connect with John's in a desperate effort to silence the inhumane noises coming from his own lips. He'd never realized how much he himself missed the contact that came from being intimate with John until they started touching again. Both of them desperately deprived of even the faintest of touches during these last few cases. He was already close, his entire body shuddering. "God! I don't know how you do this to me!" He whispered the words fiercely, his toes curling in his shoes. "John!" John however couldn't speak anymore. It was like that for him when they went so long without touching and then got so worked up. As he kept getting closer and closer with each thrust, he wrapped his arms around his husband. His eyes shut tightly as he approached the edge. He was whimpering and panting and he was sure the man up front had to hear them with the noises coming out of Sherlock's mouth but he didn't care.

"Oh... Oh, Sherlock." He whimpered, keeping himself from screaming as he bit into Sherlock's clothed shoulder. He released a muffled moan as he went over the edge, his body rocking with the much needed climax. Sherlock buried his face in John's chest, just barely keeping back the shout as he felt both of them release hard, his nails digging into the seat above John's head. He was panting and a mess.

"Oh God, I want so much more than this..." He whimpered, finding John's mouth and kissing him over and over again. His hips still bucking forward slightly. He was panting and shaking and he absolutely did not want to stop kissing John, but he knew they would be at his brother's soon. "Oh John, you incredibly devious man." He smirked. John let out breathless giggle and smirked smugly at Sherlock.

"It's what being with you has done to me." He said as he slowly sat up with a groan. He wanted more. So much more than that. But at least that would hold him off until later that night. He kissed Sherlock's lips fiercely, desperate to taste every part of him but he forced himself to pull away. "Have to get dressed." He insisted but it was clear he didn't want to. He grabbed his pants and trousers off the floor. "Later tonight," he promised as he zipped up his jeans. "I promise, I'm yours." He buttoned his jeans and moved close to kiss Sherlock once more. "I'll be all yours in our fort." Sherlock's hands had a mind of their own, his clothes readjusted they found their way into John's hair, pulling his closer for more kisses, trembling with desire.

"We need a shower... And food. I want you ready to go." He growled softly, finally pulling back as the car began to stop. "Mycroft's wrath awaits." He grinned.

"I'll be ready early just like any good solider, Master." He purred into his ear and when he pulled away he smirked. He knew that would tease Sherlock to hell and back. But he couldn't do anything about it because John had opened the door and climbed out of the car with a proud smile on his lips. Sherlock was panting for breath and it took everything he had not to pull John back in the car and own him properly. He took as deep a breath as he could and followed him, wincing slightly as the cold air hit him. They could hear Christmas music coming from inside the house. Very loud Christmas music. Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, if he wasn't mistaken. The music was very loud, too loud. John approached the door and knocked even though Greg had told them many times to not even bother. "Oh God," He chuckled. "Hamish is probably driving them mad." He whispered to Sherlock who still looked quite cross with him for teasing him.

"Well then, it'll be worse than usual." Sherlock forced a smile as he opened the door. "Sorry we're late!" He shouted but he was hit a moment later by what looked to be a tiny ball of green and red that wrapped itself around firmly his legs and almost made him fall.

"Daddy! Papa!" The little boy shouted, clinging to Sherlock's legs. "You're late!" He pouted, a candy cane in his hand.

"You shouldn't be having sweets." Sherlock scolded him.

"And you were supposed to be here an hour... What the hell happened to you two?" Greg stopped as he entered the hallway.

"Uncle Greg cursed!" Hamish giggled; he looked up at John with wide eyes and a bright smile. "Did Papa get you hurt again, Daddy?" Sherlock tried to untangle the boy from his legs but it didn't seem to be working. Hamish was clinging to him with a death grip.

"We're fine Greg, no need to worry." He said dismissively. John frowned at the question; their child shouldn't have to ask questions like that.

"No, darling. I got myself hurt." He insisted with a fond smile as he crouched down on his knees to untangle his son from Sherlock's legs. "Come here, little monkey." He ordered playfully as he let Hamish climb onto his shoulders and he held his legs to make sure he didn't fall. He looked to Greg with an apologetic smile. "We got into a bit of brawl, nothing to worry about. No need to go to A&E or anything." He assured the man before stepping into house. "Hamish, why do you have the music so loud?" He asked, looking up at the boy who had hung the candy cane so it would dangle from John's ear. He chuckled thankful that the candy cane was still wrapped in plastic.

"It's because he insists on going deaf at an early age." Mycroft said as he entered the room with glitter and bright paper stuck to him. He looked furious. John let out a snort of laughter.

"What on earth happened to you?" He asked.

"Your son." Mycroft answered as he crossed his arms. Sherlock brought his balled up fist to his mouth and could not stifle the low chuckle that came out as he looked at his brother. Hamish grinned and puffed out his chest. John forced himself to stop laughing to look up at Hamish again, forming his mouth into a firm, thin line.

"Young man did you cover your uncle in wrapper paper and glitter?"

"I made Uncle Mycroft sparkly! He's pretty now." Hamish giggled and Sherlock bit down on his lip hard, he might be cracking his ribs from trying not to laugh.

"Yea, this is what we get to put up with when you two are late." Greg crossed his arms, looking a bit upset. "John, you have stitches in your arm. Poorly done too... Jesus Christ did you have Sherlock do these?" Sherlock's gaze narrowed. Greg looked absolutely upset.

"Daddy, can we go home soon?" Hamish asked quietly, resting his head on John's. "I'm sorry if I upset Uncles." He wanted to stop the men from fighting.

"Soon, 'Mish. Soon. I promise." Greg frowned at that pout on Hamish's face, he hated to see it.

"We're not upset. We're just tired, Sweetie." He explained with a bit of a yawn.

"I'm sorry we were late. The brawl was unexpected. Consequently Greg your accounting robbers have been apprehended along with the murder weapon. Do try to process the case correctly." Sherlock moved over and offered to help Mycroft remove the paper and glue. Mycroft grunted but accepted without speaking. "He's only three Mycroft."

"Yes but did you do things like this when you were three? No." Mycroft answered angrily, his arms still crossed as Sherlock picked paper, glue, and Jesus Christ, a Christmas light! Where did Hamish find one solitary Christmas light to glue to his ear? "No. You were a quiet child at three years old. You read your books or tried to anyway. Honestly I read most of them for you then. But you never covered me in glitter." He felt something sticking to his face and he pulled that off himself to find that it was a peppermint. He shot a look to Hamish who only giggled. Sherlock sighed. "This is what he does when he gets bored, Sherlock." He explained to his brother. "This is why we don't like when you're late. He runs out of things to do so the little devil gets creative."

"He is not a devil," John argued. "A trickster maybe but I wouldn't go as far as a devil. When he felt Hamish touching his arm he winced, "Careful, 'Mish. Daddy got hurt there." At Greg's judgmental look, John rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sherlock did do the stitches but it's honestly not that bad. I'm not bleeding anymore and the wound is closed."

"It's pretty bad. You should have..." Greg started but Sherlock cut him off.

"We didn't want to. John's a doctor, he understands wounds." Sherlock's tone was dark.

"You two are back to this again? And here I thought you'd gotten some sense." Greg sighed and raised his hands slightly as they both glared at him. "Fine. Don't think about the fact we worry about you. We're going out of town tomorrow, so we won't be able to take care of Hamish for a few days. We'll be back before Christmas," He added when Hamish pouted.

"It's alright; we're taking a few days off. And I mean it, Greg." Sherlock crossed his arms but winced and uncrossed them quickly.

"You're gonna stay home wif me?" Hamish asked softly, looking excited. Sherlock tensed his face in a very Mycroft like fashion. "Are you going to stay home with me?" Hamish asked softly, looking down as Sherlock corrected him.

"Would you like that?" He asked softly, sweeping over to his boys.

"You never stay home with me." Hamish said in a sad voice. "You're always gone... I..." He looked away, unable to say that he wanted them to stay home.

"Aw." John couldn't stop himself from saying. He swept Hamish off his shoulders and into his arms. "We're sorry, 'Mish. We've just been really busy with work. But we're going to stay with you the rest of the month. One of us will always be home, probably even both of us most of the time." He assured the toddler." He explained, running a hand through his hair and smiling at him. "But Santa is coming soon," He remind him and when the boy lit up he giggled.

"You two honestly are letting-" Mycroft quickly shut his mouth once Greg glared at him. He didn't think Hamish should believe in such a thing, he and Sherlock were never allowed to. He didn't see why Sherlock insisted on Hamish believing in something that wasn't real. "Didn't you say you had a case you wanted Sherlock to look at, Greg?" Mycroft asked darkly and John chuckled.

"No, no, no. We're done." He said sternly. "Christmas is in a few days. We're on Holiday from this moment on and we're done." He said it firmly but he could still see the glint of curiosity in Sherlock's eyes. "Sherlock," He said warningly.

"I'm not leaving the flat for work," Sherlock insisted after a brief pause. "And you, Uncle Mycroft, should learn that Santa Claus is an important thing for children. Or so I'm told." Sherlock smirked. Mycroft only rolled his eyes at his brother before he continued to shake more red and green glitter of his shirt.

"Santa is going to bring me a puppy right?" Hamish giggled. "I want a puppy!"

"I don't know about that Hamish. I don't think Mrs. Hudson would like that." Sherlock's voice was tense.

"The case is one right up your alley, Sherlock." Greg picked up the file. Sherlock took it and flipped through. John groaned.

"I told you, I'm not leaving the flat for work. I'll review what you have an offer an opinion but I need time with my family."

"Sherlock, don't even review the case. You'll be too tempted to check on it." John ordered as he stepped into the living room to gather Hamish's coat and gloves.

"I will not. I can show restraint John." Sherlock said darkly as his husband left the room.

"Why do you even want a puppy?" John asked his son. He was trying to change Hamish's mind about the dog because he was getting the strong feeling there was some reason Sherlock didn't want a dog in the house."Wouldn't you like a toy or something better? Like a toy TARDIS that spins and makes that sound?" He asked with a bright smile. "Or Sonic Screw Driver, or that chemistry set your Papa said you're too young for?"

"I want a puppy!" Hamish said again, crossing his arms.

"He's wanted one for ages, since he saw one in one of his shows." Greg offered as he helped John retrieve all of Hamish's things.

"I want a puppy because I want someone to play with me all the time. Someone who isn't busy like all of you." Hamish didn't mean it to be hurtful but Sherlock's jaw tensed and Greg looked slightly pained.

"Hamish, love, come here." Sherlock whispered and scooped him off John's shoulders. "It's not going to be like that anymore."

"I can get him a robot dog." John whispered to Greg with a shrug but the look Greg gave him said that he needed to just get a dog. It wasn't like they didn't have the room.

"He doesn't like dogs." Mycroft said to John who raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I got that. But why?" He asked and though Mycroft looked as if he intended to answer the glare that came from his brother prevented him from saying anything.

"Ask him. He's your husband." He shrugged. With a sigh John walked over to his boys and he kissed Hamish's cheek.

"We're going to make sure notto be that busy again, okay? You won't ever be lonely." He nuzzled his cheek with his nose. "We're going to have fun, Hamish. We'll make Christmas cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve and maybe in a few days we'll go for a walk through town so you can see all the Christmas lights."

"Yea!" Hamish grinned and he snuggled into Sherlock, not seeing the grimace Sherlock gave as his face contacted one of the cuts on his chest.

"We'll discuss the dog situation at home." The detective said curtly. "Thank you two for watching him."

"We'll give you a call when we get back, yea?" Greg offered.

"That would be lovely." Sherlock nodded.

"Daddy! Papa! Let's go home! Can we play a game?" Hamish was off asking a thousand questions.

"Of course, Mish." John said sweetly as held the door open for Sherlock and they walked out into the cold night. He was a bit concerned that they had been neglecting Hamish too much lately. They would have to fix that right away, they could not have Hamish feeling that way for even a moment. John opened the car door for Sherlock as they all climbed into the back of the car. Mycroft's driver began heading to Baker Street. "What sort of game do you want to play, dear?" He asked Hamish, making sure his coat was on him nice and tight because even in the car it was a little chilly.

"Hm..." Hamish hummed snuggling into Sherlock and gripping John's jacket tightly. "Can we play pretend? I watched a show about a castle. Castles are nice." He was watching John intently leaning against Sherlock. Sherlock had his eyes closed, fighting a memory and the desire to open the case file tucked in his jacket.

"Well you are our little prince." Sherlock smiled kissing Hamish's head.

"I refuse to be the princess," John said quickly. "Papa can be the princess since his hair is longer." He teased, kissing Sherlock's cheek. He could tell something was wrong with him. He was keeping his eyes closed for a reason. "I'd love to play pretend though. Papa can be the princess and I'll be...well, what do you think I could be Hamish? A king? A wizard? A hobbit?" He ruffled his hair smiling at him fondly.

"Uhm... You should be a wizard..." He looked confused. "What's a hob... Hobbit?" He asked John, shifting from Sherlock's lap to John's.

"I am not a princess." Sherlock said darkly, opening his eyes to watch his family. "You will find out when you are older." Sherlock smiled.

"Older?" John asked a pout. He had loved the Hobbit growing up and he saw no reason why he couldn't tell his son about how wonderful the books of Middle Earth were.

"Just a bit older." Sherlock said calmly. At the playful smile Sherlock gave him he sighed.

"I'll read you the book later, 'Mish." John promised his son, kissing the top of his head. "If Papa isn't a princess do you think he's grumpy enough to be a dragon?" He whispered to Hamish very dramatically so Sherlock could hear.

"Papa isn't grumpy Daddy. He's sad." Hamish snuggled into John. "He has his sad face on. I think he is sad you are hurt." Sherlock's face tightened and he turned to look out the window, spinning his ring. Hamish got down and pulled on John's arm, not knowing it was the injured one, as he tried to make his dads move closer together. When he saw John wince he began to cry. He crawled up on John, gripping his shirt in his little hands. "I'm sorry Daddy." He whispered through tears. "Why are you always hurt? Why doesn't Papa protect you better?" He demanded. Sherlock clenched his fist, not returning his gaze into the car. It wasn't clear but he might have let a tear or two slip down his cheek. John's heart began to ache with sadness but he refused to let it show as he wrapped his arms around Hamish and hugged him tightly.

"Sh," he whispered, trying to soothe Hamish. "You didn't mean to. It's okay." He kissed the top of his head. John pulled away to look at his face and wipe away the tears."Papa does everything in the world to keep me safe, only sometimes Daddy doesn't listen because he's stubborn." He explained with a smile as he ran a hand through Hamish's hair. "You don't have to cry, I'm okay. Really. Papa does a wonderful job at protecting me." He promised as he leaded close and rubbed their noses together.

"Did... Did you get the bad guys? Uncle Greg said you were chasing bad men. That you and Papa save people. Is that true?" Hamish leaned into John, clinging to him.

"Yeah, we did. That's how I got hurt." John answered, rocking Hamish in his arms. He felt awful. No child should have to be so worried about his parents. But there was no way they could stop working. They were good at what they did and Sherlock could never stop, his mind would explode if he didn't have a case. The consulting detective wanted to speak but his throat felt tight. Hamish's words felt like a confirmation of how horrible he had been the last few months. It felt like the words John himself couldn't say were finally in the open. Sherlockwas making a mess of things. He, without thinking, started spinning his ring a bit faster and bouncing his leg as he descended into his brooding thoughts. His thoughts were racing and uncontrolled. It was getting so loud in his head. It ached. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to go to this dark place. He wanted to hug Hamish and hear him and John laughing. He wanted the quiet.

"Can we move closer to Papa?" Hamish asked John in a whisper. He nodded quickly.

"Of course, dear." He moved closer to Sherlock, already noticing his husband's behavior. "Sherlock," He whispered. "Are you alright?" He asked with concern and when he got no answered he bit his lip nervously. "Would you like to tell Hamish about how we save people?" He asked, trying his best to bring Sherlock out of his mind. He tried to shift so he could touch Sherlock but he had to hold Hamish to him with his uninjured arm and was unable to reach him.

"Papa?" Hamish asked quietly, reaching out and putting his hand on Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock felt his mind snap free and sighed softly, he turned back and was mildly surprised to find John and Hamish now sitting so close to him. He felt like he'd missed ages of time with them, his head ached. He suddenly realized that he was winding himself up and that if he didn't calm down and find a way to ease his mind his addictive behavior would kick in again. He looked down at Hamish and smiled, but it didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Papa, are you alright?" Hamish looked sad.

"I'm sorry Mish," Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair. "What did you ask?"

"Uncle Greg said you save people..." He smiled, holding both of their shirts tightly.

"We do. Your Daddy is an amazing doctor and he helps your Papa figure out what the bad men are doing. That's how we found you." He gently slid a finger under Hamish's chin and smiled.

"Papa found you." John corrected, glad to see that Sherlock had calmed down even if it was only a bit. He rested his hand on Sherlock's shoulder as he closed his eyes and thought back to the day Sherlock found Hamish. It had been raining and they were freezing and cold, desperate to get back in the car and go back to the flat. The case was solved but Sherlock refused to let them leave yet. "Papa wouldn't let us leave the crime scene. He wouldn't explain why but he made us all be very quiet. Then, to all of our surprise he pulled up a trap door and then there you were, crying and scared. The second he picked you up you stopped crying." He opened his eyes to smile at Hamish, running a hand through his hair. "Since then you've been our baby and we love you so much." He hummed. Sherlock blushed slightly and looked down at Hamish.

"I could hear you even over the sound of anything else." He whispered and Hamish's eyes got big. He loved this story. "Your Daddy said we could take care of you until your relatives could be found, but you didn't have anyone else. So... I talked to your Uncle and told him we wanted to adopt you if no one came for you. Then you were ours, but I knew you were ours the moment I saw you." He leaned down and nuzzled Hamish's nose with his own, though he was still fighting his thoughts.

"I love you Daddies." Hamish whispered, clinging to them.

"Want to build a fort when we get home?" Sherlock smiled. Hamish nodded emphatically.

"Yes!" Hamish giggled. John chuckled and wrapped his arms around the both of his boys.

"We'll build a fort and I'll order us some take away." He promised as the car came to a slow stop. "We're home." He said to Hamish, letting him crawl on top of his shoulders as they got out of the car. "Duck your head." He ordered happily as they stepped through the front door. "Sh, we have to be quiet or we'll wake Nanny Hudson." He added as Hamish giggled. They walked up to the flat door and he opened it. "Duck," He added again as he stepped through the door. "Come on, Monkey. Get down so you can help build the fort." He helped Hamish climb down and he laughed as Hamish began pulling out the couch cushions. "Wait for Papa to get here." He said as Sherlock walked through the door, the case file already open in his hands.

"Sherlock honestly, now?" He asked, sounding a bit annoyed as he walked into the kitchen to grab one of the many takeaway menus they had.

"I didn't want to drop it on the way in." Sherlock said softly and set it down on the desk. He walked over and moved the chairs from the dining table into the living room. "Hamish why don't you pick out a movie?"

"Okay!" Hamish grinned and as he giggled he ran over to their stack of DVDs looking over them. Sherlock moved almost on automatic as he worked to build the fort. Hamish brought the movie over to John. "Can we watch this one?" He asked excitedly.

"Of course, darling." John smiled and took it putting it in the player. Sherlock finished the fort and smiled.

"John do you want to take a shower first?" He offered, draping his jacket over the chair.

"I will. But you two start the movie; I'll go take a quick shower." John stepped into the living room and met Sherlock's lips with a quick kiss. "Money for the take away is on table." He whispered. "I ordered from Angelo's, got Hamish some pizza since he likes it so much." He ruffled his son's hair and helped him take off his jacket, gloves, and boots. "Into the fort you go, young man." He ordered, watching with a smile as Hamish climbed into the fort, cuddling up into a blanket. "Can you still see the telly?" He asked and Hamish nodded quickly. "Now," He began walking over to Sherlock, "I am going to go shower so I can be ready for you, Master." He whispered thinking he could walk away just like before, he turned but then he let out a gasp of laughter when Sherlock pulled him back. Sherlock's eyes still betrayed the emotion rolling around inside of him but he claimed John's mouth in a passionate kiss. He then turned and finished pulling off his shoes and gloves.

"'Mish, Papa is going to sit outside the fort until he can take a shower. I don't want to make a mess. But I'm right here." He sat down and put his hand on Hamish's arm.

"Okay!" Hamish giggled, watching his movie about horses. He was very happy. "Hurry up Daddy! Come get in the fort!" He shouted at John

"Give me a moment, and I will, Sweetheart." John said with a giggle as he walked down the hall into the bedroom and then the bathroom. He was honestly quite happy at the moment. They were all together at home. It was Christmas time and despite the pain coming from his wound, this is all he could ever ask for. After taking a quick shower he slipped on one of Sherlock's t-shirts and his own pajama bottoms before walking into the living room to find Hamish on top of Sherlock's back, riding him like he was a horse. "Good Lord, I leave you two alone for five minutes and Papa has become a horse."

"Well Papa wouldn't come in the fort..." Hamish pouted. Sherlock got up as the food arrived, paying for it and bringing it in and giving it to John.

"You two eat. My turn to get this grime off." He kissed the top of Hamish's head and gave John a kiss before heading off. Once the water started Hamish looked at John.

"Why is Papa still sad, Daddy?" John felt his heart give a pang of sadness; he wished Hamish couldn't recognize that so easily. Sometimes the little boy could even recognize it before John could. He put Hamish's food on a plate and grabbing his blue sippy cup and filling it with his favorite juice.

"I think it's because he thinks Daddy is lonely." He answered, seeing no point in trying to lie about it. "Do you want to eat in the fort?" He asked with a bright smile, trying to distract him from thinking about Sherlock being upset.

"Yes please." Hamish said softly, crawling back in. "Are you lonely?"

"No, Sweetie. Not all the time. I'm with you or Papa most of the time. I don't have a reason to be lonely." He assured the little boy as he sat the food down in the fort. He crawled into the fort and wrapped his arms around Hamish. "I'm happy." He said but he wasn't exactly sure of why he was saying it. He felt like he was happy but there was some part of him that maybe... Missed Victor still. He missed having someone to talk to. Yes, he had Hamish to talk to but it was nothing like Victor. He smirked thinking about the things he and Victor used to talk about. John hadn't spoken to Victor in about three months. He had been so busy with Alex, planning their wedding that they he didn't even have time to text anymore. "I'm fine. I really am, Sweetie. Papa will be too." He promised him before he started to eat his own food.

Sherlock leaned his head against the tile, the coolness biting into his skin. The water was ice cold as it beat down over his skin. He was trying to shock himself out of his mind but it hurt, especially on his cuts. He'd done too well with Hamish. The boy was exceptionally smart and quick to notice anything emotionally off about his fathers. He knew something wasn't right. Sherlock shook as he fought the grief in his stomach. He had to find a way, a way to be more for John. A way to stop risking their lives in these dangerous situations... John deserved better. His breath was shallow, his mind racing again. It hadn't been this out of control since he's been using... Since John saved him from himself. He closed his eyes, sinking into the chaos of his mind palace. It was unorganized and cluttered. He was unorganized. His mind trying to overrule his heart again. He stood there, perfectly still, as the cold water lashed his skin. Sherlock's mind slowly ground to a still, he just stood there in his mind palace alone. He would have to fix this. He could. He hadn't always been so distant. It was because of Victor. They'd both loved him. They'd come to rely on him and his presence. It had become a crutch. He flipped the water to steaming hot, grunting as he did. He would have to find a way to make more time for his family. He needed balance. He still didn't move to wash up, still deep in his mind. Hamish smiled and snuggled into John.

"You have to eat too. Papa too! Why's Papa taking so long?"

"Papa is taking a while isn't he?" He asked the little one who nodded, his mouth full of pizza. "I'm going to go check on him, you stay here." He carefully stood, making sure not to step on the food or Hamish. He walked into the bedroom and saw a bunch of steam coming from underneath the bathroom door. He frowned, that was a bit usual considering they never turned the water hot enough to create that much steam. John gently knocked on the door, his heart racing with a bit of worry.

"You okay in there, Sherlock?" Sherlock grunted, half startled. He turned the water temperature down.

"Y-yea." He called out, his voice shaking. He hastily fumbled for his shampoo dropping it with a loud clang against the tub. He cursed softly before he picked it up and poured some out into his hand. His skin was very pink, too much longer he might have burned himself. He sighed softly. "Sorry, be right out." He called again. When John heard the crash he frowned. Something was definitely wrong with Sherlock but he didn't know how in the world he could do to convince him everything was okay.

"Okay, just be careful in there." He said before walking back into the living room and sitting next to Hamish again. "Papa will be out in just a bit." He promised him. Without really thinking of the outcome John pulled out his phone and began texting the only person he knew that could help him with this sort of thing.

Victor, Sherlock is starting to worry about me. He thinks he's not doing enough which isn't the truth at all. Do you have any idea how I can make him believe me? JWH

Victor had been surprised when his phone chimed. He was sitting in his study looking over some information for a meeting he was going to attend in January. He replied quickly, pleased to finally have heard from the boys.

Starting to worry? He always worries about you, John. You can't convince him unless you are fine. Which I am sure you will say you are. Are you really fine though? There must be something he can see that says you aren't. VT

But I am fine. He thinks he's not doing enough for me when that is not the case at all. He's trying and that's all I can ask for. I think it's because I said I get lonely sometimes but doesn't everyone feel that way? JWH

Lonely? I'm sorry we haven't talked more. It's just been very busy. You shouldn't be lonely, John. He should be there for you. VT

Sherlock finished washing up and moved into the bedroom. He pulled on his pajama bottoms and fished around until he found his favorite shirt. He came back into the living room but his eyes were still a bit distant.

"Papa!" Hamish exclaimed.

"I'm sorry about that. Papa got stuck in his head." He offered with a smile. He sat down with them in the fort slowly spinning his ring.

"Eat!" Hamish exclaimed, looking grumpy.

"Oh, yes, I should shouldn't I?" He smiled. John sat his phone down and grabbed his fork, scooping up a fork full of noodles.

"Yes, eat." He ordered with a smile as he brought it Sherlock's lips. He noticed that Sherlock was spinning his ring again and he sighed. That wasn't a good sign. "Do you want anything special for dessert, sweetheart?" He kissed the top of Hamish's hair. "Or are you full already?" Sherlock ate the forkful of pasta, noting John was texting. He didn't need to see it to know who he was texting. He sighed and got up to get himself some food.

"I'm full..." Hamish said in a somewhat sleepy voice. He snuggled against John. "I love you Daddies."

"We love you too." Sherlock smiled, bringing his small bowl of food back. He sat down next to them and ate slowly being careful to not spin his ring, though he wanted to. The worried look on John's face was bad enough without staring at him doing that. He sighed but smiled. "Finish eating Daddy." Sherlock said pushing the fork to John's mouth with noodles on it.

You don't have to be sorry. You're with Alex now and you two are busy planning the wedding, I get it. But Sherlock is here. And I'm not lonely all the time. I'm not lonely now. I'm with Hamish and Sherlock. I'm only lonely when it's just me and Hamish but that hasn't happened in a while but I am worried about Hamish starting to feel lonely. We leave him with Mycroft and Greg too much. JWH

I still should make time for you two. I know I have been a git. I'm sorry. VT

You haven't been a git. You're busy with the man who's about to be your husband, I understand. So does, Sherlock. JWH

"I'm trying too, love." John said, his mouth now full of noodled. He smiled down at Hamish and hugged him closer with one arm. "You just watch your movie, buddy. I'll make sure your Papa eats." He promised him. He looked over to Sherlock with a soft smile, "He'stried." He whispered because if Hamish even heard the word 'tired' he would start bouncing off the walls to prove that he wasn't. John could still see that dark look in Sherlock's eyes and it made his smile fade away. "Are you okay?" He asked and he knew he was starting to sound like a broken record but he wanted Sherlock to tell him what was wrong instead of just accusing him.

"I'm alright, love." Sherlock said softly. "I am just very wound up after today. I'm sorry I made you two worry.

"Movie is good." Hamish said softly, now almost completely asleep. Sherlock finished his food and ran a hand through Hamish's hair, pulling him into his lap and snuggling him against his chest. He leaned his own head on John's shoulder

We could come by on Christmas. I owe you two a visit. I miss you. VT

At that last message John felt his heart give a painful ache and instead of forcing himself to reply, he set his phone aside and turned his gaze to Hamish.

"I love him so much." John said softly. "I love you too of course," He added when Sherlock nudged him with his head. "I just keep thinking that we need to make this the best Christmas in the world. He's been so lonely and I want to make sure he doesn't feel like that around Christmas time." He sighed, running a hand over Hamish's hair. "He really wants a dog, Sherlock." John said carefully. "Is there a real reason you don't like them?"

"Yes." Sherlock sighed. "Mycroft was going to get a dog. We went to the rescue to look them over and one attacked me." He focused on running his hand through Hamish's hair. "It was fairly traumatizing. So I have never liked dogs since. But I will think about it." Hamish had fallen asleep, one hand on John's leg and the other on Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock smiled. "He worries just like you."

John felt his cheeks warm at the thought and he shook his head.

"That's not a good thing, is it?" He asked with a laugh. John felt like he worried about everything. There was always something to worry about. "He doesn't need to worry like me. He shouldn't have to worry at all. Children are supposed to live without a care in the world." He sighed, running a hand through his own hair. "He worries, he gets lonely, and I'm scared that we aren't spending enough time with him." He rubbed the tiny hand touching his leg, wishing he could begin to explain just how much he loved him.

"He is ours; he doesn't have a normal life, John." Sherlock grinned. He nuzzled John's cheek with his nose. "We haven't been spending enough time together. Any of us. Greg has become too dependent on you and me solving the cases. I make no promises of miracles but I will try to slow down." He pulled Hamish into his arms tightly. "Shall we take him to bed?"

"I'm... Not... Sleepy..." Hamish mumbled but he was still mostly asleep.

"Sh, darling, it's bedtime." John whispered as he climbed out of the fort with Sherlock. "Sometimes I wish he wasn't so comfortable sleeping alone. I miss when he was one and wanted to sleep with us all the time." John said with a bit of pout as they walked up the stairs. He also wished Hamish could normal life. That's why he was doing everything in his power to make sure it was normal as possible. That's why he wouldn't let Sherlock tell him there was no Santa. Because he wanted Hamish to believe in that magic like every other child. He wanted Hamish to be able to make cookies for Santa and decorate the Christmas tree with pretty lights. "He's growing up so fast. Before we know it he'll be all grown up." John tucked Hamish under the covers after Sherlock lay him down, gazing at his sleeping figure with a frown. "I want him to stay this little. I know that's selfish but he's our baby. He shouldn't grow up so quickly." He moved into Sherlock's arms and hid his face in his neck.

"Time passes too quickly for you." Sherlock whispered, leading John out of the room. He helped him down the stairs and stopped in the living room hugging him tightly. "John, things have changed so much lately. I don't blame you for wanting them to stay the same. But they can't." He nuzzled his nose into John's hair, inhaling that perfect John smell. His hands slipping under the t-shirt to caress John's back. "My sentimental husband." He purred. "I'm so sorry I have been so awkward this evening. My mind is poisoned with doubt right now. I am not sure I am good at anything and my thoughts have been racing out of control again. Seeing you in mortal danger just reminded me how much I would be lost without you and made me realize how much I have been neglecting you." His voice was soft, the tone he reserved for only his family.

"But you haven't," John said because he firmly believed Sherlock was doing his best and he couldn't possibly complain about that. "You've been here as often as you can be and that's wonderful." He leaned closer and planted a soft kiss to Sherlock's chin. "You don't have to worry about me. I have Hamish to keep me company." He assured him as he pulled away. "I love being around him. He's my son." Christ, he did miss Victor though. That was why he didn't reply back to him. Because admitting it out loud would make the ache in his chest seem even worse.

"John, you're stuck too." Sherlock slipped two fingers under John's chin and forced him to meet his eyes. "You have to admit how you feel. You can't keep pretending everything is okay and neither can I. We both miss Victor but his absence has hurt you most of all because you needed his comfort. Comfort I don't provide you." He let his fingers slide over to cup his husbands' cheek, his entire body softening. "But I am going to try. But I can't help you if you lie to yourself about how you feel. Tell me the truth John, tell me the words you don't want to say. They won't hurt me." John didn't want to stop lying to himself. He really wanted to just continue on as if everything was perfect because he wasn't sure he could function properly if he admitted how he truly felt. But if Sherlock was going to try to help him through this he need to just confess what was wrong. If he kept quiet things would never get better. He needed to speak up now or never.

"I miss him," he whispered. "I miss having him around so much. He used to come around more when Hamish was baby just to help out but he was here. He comforted me. He held me while I was holding Hamish and that felt so much better than holding Hamish alone." He hated this, there were tears in his eyes and he felt like crawling away and hiding. He shouldn't miss Victor so much. He shouldn't have relied on him this heavily. "Now he has Alex and they love each other so much that he never has time to come around, which is fine... It's good that he has his own life but I just miss him, Sherlock. He was my friend."

"He was more than that." Sherlock whispered and he led John into their room. He closed and locked the door, turning on Hamish's room monitor so they could hear him if he needed them. He sat John on the bed and knelt down before him, holding his hands rightly with his own. His face betrayed his emotion, open and vulnerable in front of the only person he trusted. "He sort of abandoned us. He ran away and we had no time to prepare. Neither of us were ready. And because I don't know how to cope I drug you into my wild crazy mind again. I ran after cases to keep busy because the feelings made me want to use again. To find some way to quiet my mind and ease the pain. I forgot that the best answer was right here, suffering himself, and bending over backwards to keep me happy. I have done you and Hamish both a horrible disservice. I haven't made you talk to me. But that changes now. It's okay to miss him John. I miss him too. But we have to stop running from that." A tear slid down his cheek and he rested his head in John's lap shuddering with a quiet sob. "Forgive me John. Please. I will be here to hold you and Hamish. I will be here when you need me. I swear it. Please..." John's heart broke at the sight of Sherlock crying. He was doing that far too much for John's liking. Something was very wrong with this. Something was upsetting Sherlock too much. He never wanted his husband to be this upset.

"Sherlock, love." He whispered, running his fingers through his hair. "Sherlock, hush. I'm not angry with you. I'm truly not. You don't have to ask me for forgiveness because I'm not mad." It was the truth; John didn't blame Sherlock for being himself. That was one of the many reasons why he loved him. "I understand how you can get, it doesn't upset me, I just wish I could keep up with you all the time but I can't, I accepted that a long time ago and I will never blame you for my inability."

"You have to tell me. I can't read emotions... Well not all of them. Even... No especially from you." He whispered. He felt miserable, like a child. "You are the only one allowed to or who should be able to tell me to stop. I can't watch you hurt like this anymore. You have to tell me. Promise me." He leaned up, claiming John's lips in a heated kiss. "My mind is on edge. I need to touch you before I go crazy. Let me show you how much I mean what I'm saying." He whispered as a plea, his hands sliding through John's hair. The doctor felt the breath taken away the second their lips locked. He gasped and tried to catch his breath when they separated. It was so hard to keep up with him. One moment his husband was crying, the next he was trying to prove a point with his touch.

"Okay," He said breathlessly because his mind couldn't produce a proper sentence. "Okay... Whatever you need to do." He stammered, "That's exactly what I want." He nodded quickly before their lips met again and it was just as breathtaking as the first time. "Christ, we don't do this enough." He muttered between kisses.

"No..." Sherlock whispered, pulling back just enough their lips broke. "Not what I need to do. What you need me to do." He looked worried. "This isn't just about me John. You have needs too. I have never been good at meeting them but I am going to try harder. So..." He paused and licked his lips slightly, lowering himself back down so John was in the dominant position. "Right now, in this moment what do you need John Watson-Holmes?" He shook with ragged breath. He desperately wanted whatever touch John wanted. But he wanted to touch him. "Tell me what you need." John felt his heart pound at the change of position and flutter with fear at what should have been a simple question. Why was that so hard to answer? That question should be easy to answer but words were failing him. He hadn't thought about what he needed in such a long time. His needs became whatever Sherlock's were, maybe that was unhealthy but honestly he'd never minded. He ran his hands down Sherlock's chest as he tried to gather what exactly he thought he needed.

"I-I don't know." He whispered and he hated admitting that. "I haven't thought about my own needs in so long, Sherlock. But that's not your fault," He whispered seeing Sherlock's face tense. "It was a subconscious decision." He moved his hands to Sherlock's hair and he brought their lips together. "My needs sort of just melted into yours." He breathed against the soft pair of lips. "If you need to touch me, then I need your touch. It's that simple. It may be very unhealthy but that's what I need."

"That's..." Sherlock kissed him hard. "Very unhealthy. Tell me what you are feeling." He kissed down over John's jaw and onto his neck but with gentle, passionate but loving kisses instead of his usual hard, fast, 'mark him as mine' style. He was going to worship John. To remind him he was worth everything he needed. John let out a gasp at the kisses on his neck. They were so different than usual. This was tender, gentle kisses. These were the type kisses they honestly never spend enough time on. John could only recount a few times where they'd taken things slow and easy: their honeymoon, one winter by the fire in the living room, and once after a particularly bad case where John had almost lost his life. He leaned into them a soft smile on his face.

"I feel like I want you to keep doing that," He whispered and then he let out a giggle at the realization his needs weren't completely forgotten. He simply needed direction to consider them. "There's something I need." He said with a grin. Sherlock readily obliged, suckling gently over John's neck. He moaned softly at the taste of his skin, his hands caressing his back, shoulders, and back up into his hair. He kissed to the other side before kissing up to his ear.

"I love you, John. I always will." He whispered, his tongue flicking over his ear lobe. "You taste so amazing." John's eyes fluttered closed and a moan escaped his lips.

"I love you too. Nothing in the world will make that change." He said breathlessly before he brought his lips to Sherlock's neck and started to leave the same kind of passionate but gentle kisses. "I'll always be yours. I'll always love you. I'll always want you. Always... Just like it says on my wedding ring." Sherlock let out a soft but deep needy groan as John kissed him. He broke away from John's neck for the moment letting himself enjoy his loves touch.

"Oh John..." He whispered breathlessly. "Tell me more... Tell me what you are feeling... I... I need to hear it." He shuddered as another moan escaped him.

"I love you," John told him again and he didn't know how it actually started but their hips were rocking together. "Fuck, I love you so much, Sherlock." He really did and it amazed him how the love for this man seemed to grow with each passing day. "If you need to hear how I am feeling: I feel like I am the luckiest man in the world to be with you." He bit Sherlock's neck, just once, he simply couldn't resist and he was rewarded with a moan and an actual whimper. "I get to call you mine and that is the best thing in the world." John said with just a bit of growl in his voice.

"I am far luckier than you are. What you have done for me..." He gasped as John's hands wound in his hair again. "What you have done... Is... More..." His thoughts were derailed as John tugged gently. He closed his eyes. "John..." He panted, melting against him, their hips still rocking together.

"Let's get your clothes off," John practically growled as he pulled away to yank the t-shirt over Sherlock's head and toss it to the floor. "Now these," He whispered as he pulled off his pajama bottoms. "You're not wearing any pants, naughty." He teased as he straddled his lap and kissed him hard on the mouth. He was getting too aroused to keep things gentle anymore. "I need you, Sherlock." He moaned into his mouth in between heated kisses.

"Christ, John..." Sherlock whimpered. It had been a long time since John had been this dominating and to have it twice in one day was sort of like Christmas had come early. "Your... Your clothes... Need to come off." He stuttered, John's needy mouth stopping him from forming coherent thoughts. He'd forgotten what it was like when his husband truly needed something, especially when that something was Sherlock. His mind was utterly blank, all his doubt forgotten as he melted into John's care. "God, take me." He uttered breathlessly, blushing just slightly - surprised by the neediness in his own tone as he spoke. "Take what you need from me..." He pleaded, meeting the kisses with as much passion as he received, his hips bucking up against John on his lap. John grinned into their next kiss. He was in control. He wasn't sure how it had shifted to be this way again but he was loving it. So when Sherlock started to grind up into his lap, he giggled and moved a little higher.

"Oh no you don't. I won't make it that easy for you." He purred as he ran his fingers through those brunette locks and tugged on it just a little. The whimper that escaped him made John suck in his own breath. "You are so fucking gorgeous." He growled as he crawled off him and began to strip. "Keep your hands to yourself." He ordered grinning. "You can touch me when I give you permission." Sherlock almost whined and it was as shocking to him as it was to John, judging by the look on John's face. Sherlock didn't just need John he was fucking desperate. His fingers clawed into the bed as he watched John strip with rapt attention. His body tensing and shivering because the withdrawal of touch was driving him mad.

"Please..." He begged, his voice caught in his throat. He followed John's every move like a man who had suddenly seen water in the desert; he was achingly hard and could see the glistening bead of moisture that betrayed just how aroused he was. His breath moved hard and unevenly through his chest as he focused his entire awareness on his lover. "Please John..." He shuddered. "Please Captain, touch me..." He begged again, his cheeks flushed with pink because he knew how desperate he sounded. He felt dirty but it also thrilled him to admit how much he wanted this. "Use me. Take from me whatever you desire." John's eyes were dark with lust now; he sat on the edge of the bed with a grin on his face. He couldn't even begin to understand how he 'd warranted this reaction from Sherlock but it aroused his entire being. When he begged to be touched John only let out a soft laugh and rested a hand on his knee. He didn't move it anywhere else, simply resting there a while. He enjoyed watching his lover squirm. Being with Sherlock had turned his dominate side from the original compassionate master into a very teasing one. He moved his hands up Sherlock's leg, licking his lip when Sherlock let out a needy moan.

"My touch still does that much for you?" He asked still having trouble believing it.

"Yes," Sherlock forced out, whimpering again. "Whenever you touch me it just... It makes me stop. It's... Why I..." He panted, trying to beat his mind into submission. He closed his eyes but it only made the touch more intense. "Why I stay... Distant still when I'm on cases..." He trembled. "You haven't touched... Me... Like this in so long..." His eyes opened and turned to John's pleading. "Please, Captain, please don't stop."

"You say that like it's my fault." John hummed as he placed his other hand on Sherlock's thigh. "It's not my fault you weren't here for me to you touch you." He said with a bit of pout. "Even when you were here you didn't want me to touch you because of cases." His hand reached Sherlock's length where he took it in hand and began to stroke him gently. "I want to touch you like this every day, Sherlock... I hope you never think otherwise."

"Not... Your... Fault." Sherlock groaned. He fought not to start grinding into John's hands. "My fault..." He whispered, moaning loudly. He bit down on his hand to keep from shouting too loud. "Oh God... John... I... I know..." He grunted. "I wish you did... Touch me... Every... Day." He clawed into the bed, moaning louder.

"I wish you'd stay here all the time so I could." John whispered as he climbed on top of Sherlock. He brought his fingers through his hair, yanking on it but not too tightly. "I need you inside me," He moaned not being able to stop himself once he felt Sherlock's length pressing near his entrance. "I want your cock inside me right now, Sherlock." He ordered bringing his lips to his chest and leaving bite mark. "I want to ride you." Sherlock moaned loudly his eyes full of arousal and lust as he looked over his husband. The way John was talking was driving him insane.

"Oh God, please..." He whimpered, which wasn't at all what he intended to say. But his body overrode his logic. "I want you... So badly..." He trembled and arched under John as he tugged his tender hair again. He loved how John never forgot a single detail about him. How he knew exactly how to control him in every situation. He wanted to touch him but he'd not been given permission. "Please let me touch you... Please..."

"Oh, I forgot." John said with a laugh because once he was being dominate he could sort of forget the orders he gave Sherlock. It was really cruel and sometimes he would pretend to forget just to tease his husband even more. "I'm sorry, Sherlock." He said with a smile as he grabbed his husband's hand and brought it to his chest. "Touch me." He ordered as he gazed into his eyes. "Touch me like it could possibly be the last time." He said the words without thinking, his mind completely overwhelmed by lust.

"Oh don't..." Sherlock whimpered but his hands were all over John. He pulled him down into a passionate kiss, kissing him with everything he had. He didn't like the thought of it possibly being the last time because this time almost hadn't happened. He clung to John his hands roaming all over his back, neck, arms, and shoulders. Drawing him closer with desperation. The sort of desperation that Sherlock always felt when John had been in danger or injured. The kind that threatened to drown them both in his pure emotion. "I'll die without you..." He forced out between kisses.

"Sh." John said when they pulled apart because he didn't want to think about that either. "Don't think about that. I shouldn't have even mentioned it." He laced his fingers in Sherlock's hair and held it as he gazed into Sherlock's eyes. "I love you. So much. You know that? Even when you're on your cases and you can't remember anything else, you have to remember that." He kissed him once more as hard as he could trying to show his husband just how much he loved him. "I want you to always remember that. Just for me, Sherlock. You can't forget that."

"I can't forget..." Sherlock groaned between kisses, his hands still roaming over John's body. "You make me eat, remind me or force me to shower, bring me things I need..." He panted. "You take care of me, you make it so I can still thrive even when I'm lost in my mind. No one else has ever done that. No one else has ever loved me like you do." He pulled him down and kissed him, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before releasing it slowly. "You're the sun at the center of my world. I'm sorry I haven't shown you that more frequently."

"Sh, it's okay. I don't need you to show me all the time. I know you do." John wasn't sure how exactly it happened but Sherlock's length was pressing more into him and it was driving him mad. If they weren't careful he would push inside. "Fuck, stop." He panted as he leaned over to the bedside table. He grabbed the lube and handed it to Sherlock. "Please, I can't take it anymore, Sherlock. I need you." He brought his lips to his ear, sucking on the love gently. "Fuck, come on. I haven't had you in so long." Sherlock whimpered when John made him stop but took the lube and clicked it open. He dumped out the necessary amount and made John lift up so he could coat himself with it. He toyed with himself as he did, moaning and bucking gently into his own hand, just to tease John. He panted and looked up into John's eyes.

"I've prepared myself for you, you said you wanted to ride me." He smirked. "Take what you need." He moved so his slicked fingers slipped inside John, teasing him as he pulled him down into another kiss. He was determined to make John take what he wanted. John, who was absolutely desperate, growled and yanked on Sherlock's hair.

"Stop being such a fucking a tease, Sherlock." He growled. "I can't take it. You have no idea what you do to me. How long I have gone without your touch. You can't tease me with little touches like that. That's just cruel." Without warning he sunk down onto Sherlock's length with a moan. He released his grip on his hair and brought his hands to his chest where he dung his nails in. "Fuck," he gasped as he felt himself being stretched. "I am going to take what I need, Sherlock. I need this. You have no idea how badly I need this but if you try to tease me again I'll tie your hands up." He warned as he started to rock his hips on top of his husband.

"Oh... Fuck, John." Sherlock growled, panting hard. His heart pounding in his chest, because he hadn't expected John to need him this much. He bucked his hips up to meet John's motions, shuddering from the feel of how tight John was around him. "God yes, take it. Use me." He gasped the words breathless with his arousal. He let his hands run down John's chest until his found his erection, wrapping his hand tightly around him, so each motion John made pumped Sherlock's hand over that aching cock. "Like this?" He growled. "Come on, use me."

"Fuck, stop!" John moaned, grabbing Sherlock's hand and forcing it away from his length. "No, no, I want to make this last for as long as possible. If you do that I won't last long." He moved his hands up to Sherlock's shoulders and griped them tightly as he continued to move on top of him. "You want to be used? You like being used? I think you're starting to like being submissive, Sherlock. Took you a while but I think you enjoy it more than I do." He teased and when he felt Sherlock dig his nails into his hips he gasped and let out a laugh. "Don't take it out on me, it's not my fault you like it so much." He grinned down at Sherlock, knowing how much the teasing was bothering him.

"Fuck..." He groaned, trying to move his arms but they were pinned. John had gotten stronger. A fluttering feeling rolled through his stomach and it made him whimper. John was right, he felt like he deserved to be used. John had been growing more comfortable in his dominating behavior and Sherlock was keen to explore it. "You're right... I like it." He panted, breathless as John's motions tormented him. "Please don't stop... Don't go easy on me." He begged, closing his eyes and flushing slightly. "God, John, please..."

"Oh, I can't stop. Even If I wanted to, I can't. That's how far gone I am." He groaned. John kept a very firm grip on Sherlock's arms, grinning down at him. "This is what you do to me. This is what being without you for so long makes me want to do." He was moving his hips even faster now. He had broken out into a sweat and his whole body was a flushed. "Fuck," He moaned as he lowered his head for one moment. His dominate need slipped and he groaned because he was starting to wear out. His moans were starting to sound like whines and whimpers but he kept moving his hips furiously on Sherlock. His grip relaxed as his eyes fluttered closed and he whimpered again. "Sherlock," He panted, hoping that Sherlock would understand he needed his husband to move, to take over. He really didn't feel like asking, or begging, or commanding anymore he just simply needed this. Sherlock groaned and gripped John's hips a bit harder, pushing up into him.

"So beautiful..." He muttered the appraisal, sitting up slightly to change the angle of his thrusts. "Oh you're so tight John. God yes," He whispered, his hands fluttering over John. "Come apart with me." His body moved relentlessly, almost as if it had a mind of its own. He growled and moaned, just letting the noises come without trying to stop them. "God if you don't move those hips more I'm going to flip you over and pound you into this bed." His voice was a growl of desire as he spoke.

John let out a breathless laugh.

"You say that like it's supposed to be threat." He moaned as Sherlock kept hitting that glorious spot over and over again. "Do it." He ordered, moving a hand to Sherlock's hair and gripping it tightly. "Take me. I want you to remind me who I belong to you, Sherlock." He met Sherlock's lips with his own, biting and sucking on his lower lip before he pulled away with a grin. "You better do as I say. I am you're Captain. If you don't listen to an order I'll make you sit on the edge of the bed and watch me finish this all by myself." Sherlock did not need to be told again, he braced one foot on the bed and easily flipped the two of them over. His hands pressed down on John's hips with a bruising pressure as he pounded into him. The sound their hips made when they contacted was loud and messy. His face was flushed with desperation and desire, as he held John so his back was arched just slightly off the bed so he could keep pressure on that delicate spot that made him shiver. He leaned forward capturing John's mouth in a violent, bruising kisses.

"God you're so bloody desperate." He whispered against his lips, sweat forming on his brow. "You're mine. You always have been. I'm going to break you!" He shouted but in a whisper, grunting and arching back up as the delicious sensations rolled through him. "Oh God you're clenching me so hard!" John was an utter mess, shivering and gripping the sheets tightly. He had lost the ability to speak so he just moaned and whimpered, not able to control it. At the promise of being broken, he did break. He shattered into a million pieces as Sherlock spilled inside him. He came with a loud moan of his husband's name and then his breath was stolen from him. It felt like his breath was gone for so long he worried he would never start breathing again but finally, it was over and he could catch his breath. He panted and released his grip on the sheets.

"Oh, oh my... Sherlock." He gasped, sounding desperate as he reached for his touch. "Let me hold you." Sherlock whined again, still caught off guard by the noise as he almost completely collapsed on John. His arms shook, barely holding him up. It took several minutes before he could even shift enough to slip out of John and the slight movement sent him gently down on top of his lover.

"Oh... John..." He panted, his head resting on John's chest. His curls damp with sweat and his entire body shivering. He felt his mind start to slide back into function and he realized there was a huge wave of emotion pooling in his belly. One he was too weak to stop. Tears came and leaked down his cheeks and onto John's chest as he clung to him, weakly and utterly boneless but deeply affected. One of his hands slowly, shaking as it did, made its way up to John's cheek as he turned his eyes upwards. "I love you..." He whispered. "God I do." At the sight of the tears in Sherlock's eyes, John's heart began to ache and tears started to blur his own eyes.

"I know you do." He whispered and then damned himself because that wasn't what he meant. "I know you do and I love you too. So much." He wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Don't cry, love. You've cried so much tonight and I hate that I can't make it stop." He kissed the top of his head, not caring if it was sweaty. "I hate when you cry. It tears me apart." He rubbed Sherlock's back in slow circles, hoping he could sooth him.

"I can't stop it because I've held it in so long." He whispered, nuzzling into John's neck almost childishly. He clung to John, pulling their bodies as close as possible.

"You don't have to hold it in. Ever. If you ever feel like you have to break down you can with me, okay?" John whispered smiling just a bit when he felt Sherlock's nose rubbing into his neck. He loved this man so much partly because he was so beautifully childish.

"It terrifies me when you get hurt because I can't imagine a day in this world without you. You're my anchor. You keep me grounded and rooted." Sherlock was whispering, blushing slightly. He still wasn't used to the amount of sentiment that John inspired in him. "I'm okay..." He promised, his nails digging lightly into John's chest. "I just need you to be okay too. No more lying to me about your feelings."

"I'm sorry, I won't lie again. But in my defense I didn't know I was lying in the first place. I was lying to myself too, Sherlock. I thought it would be easier that way." He continued to run his hands up and down Sherlock's smooth back; it was what he did to comfort his husband. That or run his fingers through his hair but he was really too weak to even move his arms any higher than where they were resting. "I'm okay. In this moment. I am truly and blissfully happy."

"I would hope so." Sherlock smiled, still nuzzling his nose against John. Using the motion to inhale and memorize the scent that made up his husband all over again. "It's too easy for you to hide your feelings. I know it's my fault." He sighed softly, he was utterly exhausted. "You always look so beautiful when you orgasm under me." He teased, pressing soft kisses over John's ear. John felt his cheeks warm and he knew his face was red for a completely different reason now. It was still amazing that Sherlock could make him blush like this, after all this time he still couldn't stop himself from reacting that way. He gave a sigh of content at the kisses, a smile on his lips.

"You look beautiful always." He whispered, turning his head so he could kiss Sherlock's neck and shoulder. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I love when you look like this. So… Open and vulnerable. You're only like this with me." Sherlock blushed just a bit, his eyes meeting John's.

"You're the only one I can be like this with," He confessed, the blush deepening slightly. His eyes searched John's, trying to figure out everything about the moment before him. "I don't know what I'm doing... You gave me your heart and your life and I just... I'm like Hamish. I'm a child with the world's greatest treasure balanced in my ill prepared hands." He finally looked away, looking a bit ashamed. "I thought by now I would have figured out how to carefully protect you and keep you at my side. How to make you always smile that beautiful smile you get when you're truly happy... But I haven't. I wake next to you each morning and I feel like I have this tender balloon in my chest that could be punctured at any moment because I can't take care of you properly... Do... Do you feel like that? How do you deal with it?" His voice was still soft, almost a terrified whispers as he confessed his own inadequacies and begged John for confirmation. John frowned, he hated when Sherlock sounded so scared and there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing he could physically do to protect Sherlock when the problem was emotional.

"I can't say I feel exactly like that but I do understand what you're saying. When I wake up in the morning... I just have this ache in my chest that when I open my eyes that you won't be there. And I don't mean that in terrible way, I just mean out on a case. It's happened so many times and at first it didn't bother me but now it's become a fear." He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the ache and tightening in his chest. "I hate waking up alone. I think Hamish knows it too because whenever you're not here, somehow he ends up in our bed. I think he hears you leave so he runs down here to keep me company." He sucked in a breath, trying to swallow the sob. "When you're not here I feel like... It's those three years all over again. Maybe I have just grown too attached to you but even if we're apart for just a few hours, I start getting the same ache in my chest. But I force myself to push the ache down because if I don't I won't be able to take care of Hamish and I won't be able to take care of you. It's all so overwhelming but I would never trade it for anything because you two are the loves of my life and I can't be without either of you."

"Oh John," Sherlock whispered softly and moved so he was leaning up over John, his eyes burning into his husband's. "What have I done to you?" He whispered, leaning down and claiming John's mouth with a soft, deeply emotional kiss. "You shouldn't have to feel that way..." He searched John's eyes again, tilting his head slightly - the way a child or a dog might when they try to understand something they don't normally come across. "From now on I won't get up until you're up unless I absolutely have to. If I do, I'll make sure you understand that it will be that way before we fall asleep the night before. I'll try to be better about making sure I go to bed with you too. I don't want you to feel that ache. I never want you to feel that fear again." John was still crying, he didn't know why. He just couldn't stop. It was pathetic but talking about waking up alone and that ache he felt in his chest made him start to weep. Just like he had wanted to when he felt that ache but he couldn't because Hamish was there. He still tried to push away the emotion because he hated to be crying in front of Sherlock. He had enough on his mind and this wasn't helping. He wiped his tears away and looked away from Sherlock for a few moments. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and thick with tears. "Really. That will help me so much." Why couldn't he stop crying? Sherlock had promised to try to be here for him. That should be enough to make this stop. "I'm sorry," He whimpered feeling ashamed for being a sobbing mess.

"Don't be." Sherlock sat up some and pulled John with him, moving their bodies so John was now leaning against his chest. "Let it out, John. It's okay." He ran his hands soothingly over John's back. "You've held this all in too long. It's alright John, I've got you." He nuzzled his nose into John's hair, letting his own emotion show. Trying to show John it was okay for him to feel. "Talk to me, tell me what's going on in that head of yours. Let me help you with this." John was now holding on to Sherlock tightly, a few sobs escaping his lips before he could even properly answer.

"What I'm thinking currently is that you're under enough stress worrying about me and this isn't helping." He felt awful. John knew that Sherlock didn't mind that he was getting emotional but that wasn't what mattered. "You'll spend hours brooding on this moment; worrying about how broken you've made me when it's not really your fault." He hugged Sherlock even tighter, wishing he could be stronger than this. "I should be stronger; I used to be the stronger one. I'm a solider. I should be able to push all this nonsense aside. I don't want you to worry about me, ever."

"I worry about you every moment of every day, John." Sherlock whispered, pulling John more into his lap. "I always will, just like you worry about me. I will brood on this but not because I think it's my entire fault. Rather I'll do it because I want to make sure you never have to feel this sad again. You don't have to be anything other than you are, John... My John..." He whispered, carding his hands through John's hair. "I am okay and will be okay if you let these feelings out. But if you hold it all in, if you shove it all away I won't be okay..." He sighed softly, trying to figure out how to say what he meant properly. "I need to see you feel in order to learn how to feel myself, John. If you keep pushing your emotions away both of your boys will do the same. We all have to be honest about how we feel. Please, don't bottle this up... Tell me everything. Talk all night if you need to. I'm right here and I'm not leaving."

John still had tears pouring out of his eyes but he wasn't sobbing anymore. He gazed into Sherlock's eyes, his mouth turned downward into a frown as he tried to even begin to come undone. He had been bottled up for so long he was honestly afraid of what would happen if he just let all that emotion come pouring out. But he had to. For Sherlock. He wanted Sherlock to be okay more than anything else in the world. He took a shaking breath and he rested his head on his shoulder, turning his head so his nose brushed against his neck.

"We're not here enough. Either of us. Can you remember the last time we got to have a night in like this? I do... It was almost a month ago. We're not doing enough for him. Only one of us is with him half of the time. It's never the both of us. He's going to start to think we don't like to be around each other if only one of us is with him." He rambled.

"Yes I do remember. I count them." Sherlock whispered and it was true. He hated how infrequently they were home together like this. "You're right," He whispered quietly. "You've been left alone to handle all of this, Hamish, me, you, Victor leaving... All of it." He let his hands slide up and down John's back, encouraging him. "I've let the Yard become too dependent on me solving cases and I've become too dependent on needing them. On running away from the emotion of all of this. He worries, just like you. Would it be better if we made a sort of schedule? Maybe if we assign a certain night as our date night and have at least three other nights a week we're home by a certain time with him, no excuses, things would be better?"

"Yes," John said nodding quickly. He lifted his face so he could look into Sherlock's eyes properly. "I need that. He needs that. I don't ever want him to feel lonely. I felt lonely when I was about his age. No child should feel that way. They should feel bombarded with love and affection - which we give him but I don't think we give him enough. That's why I want this Christmas to be perfect, Sherlock. I want the flat to be covered with gifts; I don't care if that's spoiling him. Last year we didn't get him enough. This year I want to give him more than enough because he has been such a good boy. I've never seen a child as well behaved as he is. Well despite the little pranks he likes to pull on Mycroft." He was laughing now and it felt like a miracle. He could slowly feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders

"Then we will. I will fill this flat top to bottom if I have too. I will talk to Greg and let him know that I can't just run off all the time anymore. Anderson has been doing better at collecting forensics maybe I can really become more of a consultant... But I can fix this. I know I can. We can talk to Mrs. Hudson in the morning and find out if she will even let us have a dog. If she says yes I will consider getting him one." John gave a soft smile.

"You'll consider it." He corrected playfully. "I have already made my mind up and if Mrs. Hudson says yes, you're the only one who has to do any considering about anything." He felt the ache in his chest begin to fade away and he rubbed his nose with Sherlock's. "If you get dogs at a young age, they grow up with you so they won't be vicious or anything. I had a puppy, well, mom wouldn't let us bring him into the house but he was a puppy. I kept him a nice place outside. I fed him. He was my best friend when I was little."

"You make it sound like you want a puppy more than our son." Sherlock smiled softly, still holding John close. John blushed at the comment, maybe he did, and he may or may not have given Hamish the idea about having a puppy. He just couldn't help himself; he's always wanted a real family pet. "Ah so it was you." Sherlock grinned, "It's all over your face." He chuckled again. "Next you'll want us to move to the country." He was teasing, his smile wide as he kissed John softly. "But it's going to be another person you have to take care of." He warned carefully. "You'll have a full house at this rate." He sighed and leaned his head back, letting his thoughts run as they wanted to.

"No it wasn't," John tried to lie, hiding his blushing face in Sherlock's neck. "And for the record, moving to the country wouldn't suit us... Somewhere bigger though maybe." He mumbled and it was almost inaudible. John had been guilty of thinking of getting another place in London just in case they ever adopted another child.

"So what were you texting Victor about earlier?" Sherlock asked, knowing that John wasn't ready to talk about his mumblings which he heard perfectly. "And don't say you weren't. He and I are the only ones you text after it gets dark."

"After it gets dark? You make it sound like I'm texting for a shag." He giggled; he honestly did feel more relaxed now. He didn't feel any weariness about anything for the moment. Talking about it really did help. He should have known it would. It always did but he somehow forgot every time. "But, if you must know I was talking about you. How you were acting at dinner was worrying me and I was talking to him about it."

"I would have read your texts after you went to sleep anyway, you should know that by now. I have been worried John. I feel like I'm not enough for you. The way you've missed Victor hasn't helped. I never expected the two of you to grow as close as you did and it made me worry that you choose the wrong lover to keep." He shrugged and spun his ring for just a moment or two before stopping. "We both are insecure in this. We both are scared we're doing the wrong thing. If you had someone from your past like Victor I might have been texting them myself. I don't blame you."

"I know you don't. And I don't feel guilty about texting him, he's really the only person I can go to who understands you like I do." John brushed his lips over Sherlock's cheek. "If we both knew how to talk to each other properly, we wouldn't worry about each other so bloody so much." He sighed, running a hand over Sherlock's chest. "But I didn't choose the wrong lover. You're the only one I want to be with. You're my husband. I miss our time with Victor but you're my world. I can live without him, I can't live without you."

"We both have to try to talk to each other more. We can't do anymore of this stuffing our feelings away. Hamish needs to see what positive role models look like. Which means you also have to stop pretending you don't have feelings. I'm the cold machine remember, not you." He lifted John's chin and kissed him softly. John kissed him back, all the wonderful emotions he felt pouring into it before he pulled away.

"I don't do that exactly, I just pretend I don't have any of the sad feelings." At the firm look Sherlock gave him he sighed, "Which I will try not to do anymore." He promised. Sherlock, knowing that John wanted to talk about something else, smirked and ran a hand through that dirty blonde hair. This would be a perfect time to bring up his husband's mumblings.

"Just how big do you intend our family to be, John Watson-Holmes?" He grinned and held John closer. "We can't leave Mrs. Hudson, we need her. England needs her." He chuckled again.

"I don't know," John lied obviously, "I'm worried about telling you, I'm not sure how you'd react." He confessed. "But if we ever did move, that amazing woman is moving with us. She's like Hamish's grandmother."

"For the record she is Hamish's grandmother." Sherlock said with nod before he smirked. "Ah, but you didn't answer my question." He teased and gently tickled John's ribs, the one spot that was ticklish on the man. "How big are you intending our family to be? Because I can't work a normal job and I certainly can't be away from you long enough to try." He kissed him as he giggled.

"Stop!" John guffawed loudly when he was tickled in that one damn place Sherlock always new how to find. "Stop tickling me you bloody devil and I'll tell you." He promised and then they were kissing. John couldn't stop the laughs from coming as they kissed. "Stop!" He pleaded and finally Sherlock stopped tickling that spot and he could breathe again. "Don't tickle me, I hate it." He insisted with a smile. "And if I must answer that question," He brought a hand to Sherlock's hair, gently rubbing his scalp, "Maybe one or two more children. That's all. I don't think I could handle more than that. Three children. Sounds perfect to me. Two would be amazing as well. I just know I'll need one more to be happy." Sherlock chuckled low.

"First it was me, then me and Hamish, then Hamish, me and a dog... Now it's one or two more?" He rolled them so he was over John, attacking his neck with kisses and love nips. "Demanding aren't we?" He teased but he was smirking. "I don't know John, we'll have to see. Maybe once Hamish is in school." He kissed him more deeply. "You are simply adorable." John gazed up at Sherlock a bright smile on his lips.

"You're the adorable one, remember? You're the one who brought Hamish home in the first place. We had only been considering children and then you bring him home and he's ours in two days. That was you. I should at least get to find and bring one home too." He teased. John ran his hands over Sherlock's back, gently scratching his back. The consulting detective blushed a bit as he remembered. It had been rather rash.

The crime scene had been almost silent once the bodies had been removed. They hadn't gotten there quickly enough to stop the murders. Sherlock heard something, a faint crying. He furrowed his brow as he looked around trying to follow the noise. Then suddenly Greg was talking.

"Shut up Lestrade! All of you shut up now!" Sherlock demanded, sweeping around like a cat looking for a mouse. John had almost giggled until Sherlock shot him that look. It had been such a dark look too. Then all of a sudden Sherlock knelt down and yanked up a piece of the rug revealing a trap door. He yanked the door open and a very young boy was there sobbing his little eyes out. Sherlock scooped him up in one tender motion and bounced him gently. "Hush little one, it's okay now." He whispered ignoring the look of shock on both John and Greg's faces as the baby stopped crying. The medics checked the child over and announced him to be in fine health. Greg tried to take him from Sherlock but Sherlock had growled at him. John was getting them a cab.

"Let us take care of him until his relatives are found..." Sherlock insisted.

"Sherlock I can't..."

"You can and will." Sherlock corrected him. "And if they're not found we'll adopt him."

"Sherlock you don't..."

"I know everything about him there is to know."

Then when no one had come forward and Greg phoned to say they could keep him, well... John had been at the store and when he came back Sherlock was waiting.

"John, Hamish is ours. No one else has claimed him so we've adopted him." Sherlock was bouncing him and the little boy was laughing.

"Wouldn't you want a baby girl?" Sherlock suddenly heard John ask, his husband already had that same dreamy look he had in his eyes when he saw Hamish.

"I wouldn't know what to do with a girl, John... But don't you think the stress would be a lot for you right now?" He whispered, he wasn't against the idea he just wanted to be a bit more rational about it. "Does Hamish want a sibling?"

"I'm not saying we get one right now. Maybe in a year or so." John explained. Sometimes he wanted to be rash but there was still some logic in him. "And I haven't talked to him about it yet. Right now I think he's comfortable with just us, but, if we start giving him some time to warm up to the idea, he may like it." He smiled softly up at his husband, trying to peruse him into at least consider it. "They say girls are the easier ones to raise. Boys are the trouble makers; girls are the one who behave. And wouldn't Hamish make a fantastic big brother? He's so smart and when I take him to the park, he always stops to help the smaller children."

"So precious." Sherlock smirked and ran his hands through John's hair. "Alright, we'll talk about it. But we're going to have to really see how having a set schedule works. Having two young children with me running off on cases will be the death of you. The things I let you convince me to do..." He smirked but he liked the idea some himself. "So what else am I going to be agreeing to this evening?"

"I think you're going to agree to get some rest and possibly go shopping for me tomorrow afternoon? I can stay with Hamish while you get him some more gifts?" He rubbed his nose to Sherlock's, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Oh, maybe I'll go and find us a tree, or should we do that together? We did that together last year. Maybe we can decorate together and it all still counts." John was rambling now, his mind now lost in what was about to come when the sun rose. "We should already have a tree but we go so busy that I'm just now thinking about it. I hope we still have all our ornaments and lights." Sherlock put his hands firmly on John's shoulders to make him stop talking for a moment.

"We can go get a tree together in the morning. We'll take him to the breakfast place he likes so much before we go. Then we can go pick out a tree and you two can decorate it while I go shopping. The ornaments and lights are in a box in Hamish's closet." Sherlock sighed and leaned back against the headboard. "I'll stay here and hold you, but I'm not likely to sleep tonight love. My mind is too full."

"Sounds like a good plan. I can never make proper plans like that so quickly." John kissed his cheek gently before moving to curl up next to him, his arms wrapping around him and his head resting on his chest. "I wish you could sleep, you haven't slept in a few days, love." He whispered, his nose nuzzling his chest. "I won't force you though, I'm pretty sure that's impossible." He giggled. "I don't see how your mind is full of anything considering my mind is only focused on the fact my body is still a little sore from what we did a little earlier."

"My mind is always full, John." Sherlock kissed the top of his head and held him close. Enjoying the feel of their bodies wrapped together. "I know I haven't slept, I can feel the crash of exhaustion on the horizon." He sighed. "I'm still too anxious from knowing how dangerously close I was to losing you today." He was comfortable and he lowered his voice as he spoke, trying to lull John to sleep without making him worry more. "I'll be alright. I promise I'll try." John's eyes were already closed and he could hardly make out what Sherlock was saying. He did hear something about promising to sleep so he chuckled and shook his head.

"Liar." He mumbled. "I bet I'll have to carry you to bed tomorrow before Hamish." His words faded away as he started to drift to sleep. "W-Wake me if you…" He couldn't finish his sentence. He was already asleep in his husbands arms a relaxed smile on his lips. Sherlock smiled and he continued to run his hands through John's hair for a long time. His thoughts racing here and there as he tried to sort everything out. John wanted another child, a girl... And a dog... Sherlock had been neglecting his family... He needed to be sure he was there more for them. On and on his brain went until John, still deeply asleep, slid his hand up onto Sherlock's chest over his heart. A warmth spread through his body at the feel of the gentle touch and without intending to he was slowly lulled to sleep exactly as he was sitting, one hand in John's hair and the other balled up against his chin, his index finger on his cheek. The exact position he remained in until he was woken the next morning.

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